26. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Viktor

I settle into the crease, the familiar crinkle of my lucky Ace of Spades card tucked into my helmet. Cornell's offense is a well-oiled machine, cycling the puck with surgical precision. But I'm turning away shot after shot with acrobatic saves that leave the crowd gasping. Eat your heart out, Ha?ek.

Jackson wins the defensive zone face-off, sending it back to Henneman, who passes it right back and Jackson takes off. He streaks down the ice on a breakaway. It's a thing of fucking beauty, the way he undresses Cornell's defensemen with a filthy deke.

But when he shoots, Cornell's goalie snatches the puck out of the air like it's nothing.

"Fuck."

As the teams reset, I glance at the bench. Becks is watching, his jaw tight and his arms crossed. When our eyes meet, his expression softens. He shoots me a small nod and mouths, Keep going. You've got this.

And I do.

Cornell keeps crashing the net, but I'm a fucking fortress. Glove saves, pad saves, a sick fucking two-pad stack that leaves their forward looking like he's about to cry.

"Scoreboard, bitch!" I crow as he skates away, tapping my helmet mockingly.

But hockey's a fickle mistress, and she's not content to let me stay on my high horse for long. Early in the second, a seeing-eye shot from point finds its way through traffic and over my blocker.

Goddammit.

Their goon of a defenseman skates by, a smug grin on his punchable face. "What's the matter, Novotny? Puck knock the cock outta your mouth?"

Suddenly he falls over, groaning, and the ref's whistle blares.

Henneman stands over him but gives me a curt nod. When I look back down at the pissant, he's holding his cup. Well, fuck me. Quiet Henneman just high-sticked this fucker in the balls.

As our defenseman makes his way to the penalty box, Zach fist bumps him. About time my friend started treating the rookie like an actual teammate.

The rest of the period is a firefight, pucks zipping from end to end like tracer rounds. But neither team manages to find the back of the net. We head into the third tied at one.

"Just keep doing what you're doing, Novotny." Coach Nieminen growls, his gruff voice oddly soothing. "Give us a chance to win this fucking thing."

I nod, jaw set. I will. I fucking will.

Midway through the third, Jackson's cutting through the neutral zone, skating like the wind. But that fucking ogre who broke his ribs last season lines him up for a hit.

He misses, but they're fighting a second later.

And when Connor jumps in, it becomes an all-out brawl.

Not wanting to be left out, I smack my stick on the ice as I skate over the center line into their territory. "Come on, motherfucker."

Their goalie skates right at me and we start swinging, spitting curses and insults. Yeah, I remember the way he clapped when his teammate broke Jackson's ribs.

Someone screams my name, and someone is pulling at my jersey. But I don't stop, too busy trying to beat the ever-loving shit out of this asshole.

Eventually, we're pulled apart.

On the way back to the net, I smile wide at the bench. Becks just shakes his head while Rinne hides his face, his shoulders shaking. Yeah, of course he's laughing because goalie fights are rare. Bet he misses this shit.

After penalties are handed out, four players from each team in the box, the game gets back underway.

The minutes tick down and the score is still tied. I seriously don't want this game going into overtime. And definitely don't want a fucking shootout happening.

Henneman intercepts a pass. He's in their zone at the top of the end zone face-off circle. He takes a slapshot.

Please, please, please.

The horn blares.

"Fuck yeah!"

Game over.

In the locker room, chaos ensues. It's Henneman's first goal with the team and we're all celebrating. For once, he's smiling, even though his body is tense.

I make my way over, slapping his shoulder. "Way to go, Henny."

"Thanks."

Our coaches come in, giving a quick speech, then tell us to hurry the fuck up and get on the bus. Hands down, I'll be the last one out. But who fucking cares?

I look around. Maybe Becks and I can sneak in a quickie.

"You tell Coach yet about Miami?" Jackson asks.

"Working on that. Just gotta figure out how to tell Becks I'll be out of town for a few days. On a totally innocent, not-at-all-murdery vacation with the boys."

"You're fucked," Zach says, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Maybe I'll tell him while I'm riding him. Or choking on his dick.

I catch Becks' eye across the locker room, and he grins at me, slow and heated. It sends a shiver straight to my core, damn near buckling my knees.

Yeah. Definitely telling him in bed. And if that doesn't work . . . well. I'm sure I can come up with some other way to distract him.

After all, I'm the master of causing chaos. Might as well use my powers for good.

Or, at least, for a good dicking.

But hey, all's fair in love and maiming, right?

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